The Forgotten Figure
by Agent WGD
Summary: A short story I wrote a bit more than a year ago and posted on Tumblr. Was mostly written out of annoyance at the majority of the FMA fandom forgetting about Alfons Heiderich. I don't have the same thoughts nowadays but I do still love the character and therefore continue to write stories with him in it. Rated T for possibly unsettling imagery. Enjoy!


A pale apparition with blue eyes leaned against a grave, smiling, his visitor was bound to arrive again, and there he was. Brown coat blowing in the wind and flowers held still by gloved hands. He chuckled and said aloud to his visitor "What took you so long this time? Did your brother hold you up again? Yes, yes, I understand. Is Ms. Gracia doing well?" The other man moved passed him. "Oh, you're going to see your father? Well this is a first! I knew you cared about him, you silly lunatic." He chuckled. The visitor dropped to his knees in front of the silent grave and murmured "Thank you, dad. Thanks to you, Alphonse is home now, well, I guess "home" is defined by me now, but still, I wish you could've been more of a father earlier in our lives and stayed with mom. Take care, where ever you are now…" He strained as he got up and unseen metal screeched. "Looks like I have to get this fixed, Al is not going to be happy with me putting this off for so long…" He readjusted his coat and watched leaves fall from the branches of the trees and moved over to the most recently made Lies Alfons Heiderich: Friend, Co-Worker, Celebrated Scientist, Scholar, and Beloved visitor pushed his bangs out of his eyes. "Sorry I took so long, I will never forget you, Alfons. As long as I live." He patted the grave and the figure watching him went silent and smiled brighter. The visitor walked to the end of the cemetary and closed the gate behind him.

Many years passed and the form waited for his precious visitor to arrive once more. His usual cheery self grew sad, but still kept a smile, a little touch of hope, just to keep him going. His visitor never came again. Feeling more empty than ever before, he sat at his grave, where no more flowers were dropped, the ones that remained were dead and came apart when the wind came through. There was nothing he could do, no one would ever remember him, not even if he tried. Sure, he heard straight from the visitors mouth that he'd be remembered, but how should he know? Did his visitor lie to him? He did not know. His form grew bony and stiff, he swore he saw his bones through his ghostly flesh. He screamed but there was no one to hear him. His face felt warped and he felt like he was being strangled, the screams were just rasps for air that he could not breathe. His skin was ripping and the last thing he knew he was falling apart and then darkness.

He awoke with a start. In his own coffin next to his old form, just bones now in a suit, not quite a birthday suit but more of a deathday suit. He stared at it and laughed and laughed. Is this what he had become? Just some empty shell? He banged on the lid and shouted "Do not forget me I said. Now look at what I've become!" He laughed some more, more hysterically. His laughter slowly regressing into fits of giggles. He observed his warped hands, now partly bone and deteriorating skin. He felt empty, that was good, right? At least at this point he could rest, no, no, he couldn't rest. These voices in the air, they weren't always there, were they? "Leave me alone!" He cried. The noise intensified, such chatter was deafening to him. "Why would I remember you? I have my brother now, I didn't deserve you at all. He was such a hastle to have in the flat, you are a much better tennant. What stupid ideas Heiderich had, he was such a waste of money." The voices were his friends, unable to cry, he screamed with all his might until morning.

In time his visitor returned, the figure was warped beyond imaginings, he looked more like a demon, than the even tempered young man he once was. Hair all strung out, empty space where his sky blue eyes once were, clothing ripped, skin rotted, chest cavity exposing the gunshot wound that killed him, half of his face became bone, and his mouth showing blood. He spoke in a hurt gravelly tone "W-Why d-did y-you forget me?" Blood ran down his chin and dripped unseen on the ground. He reached toward his visitor with a skelatal hand and touched his face. The visitor turned in the direction of the figure, he looked much older, silver hair was easily seen through the sea of gold. The eyes of the visitor were tired, so tired, and the edges were wrinkled. He held the hand of the figure and his eyes widdened in terror in realisation of what he was holding and who it belonged to. "Serves you right… Elric." The visitor screamed as his flesh rapidly decomposed. The visitor slumped to the ground unmoving.

The figure was alone once more but, he was content as he played around with the remains of his once constant visitor. Once he had his fill of amusement he walked out of the cemetary and dissapeared. What became of to Alphonse Elric, you ask? Well, he was last seen heading toward the cemetary to check on his brother who was at the cemetary visiting an old friend. Some say that late at night, when the sky is clear, and the moon is full, you can see three figures next to the grave of Alfons Heiderich. One is tall and skinny with blood on his chest, another with a tattered red coat and limps when he walks, the final one is always following them, tagging along like a stray kitten. They can never leave, but will come after you, dare you forget any one of them.


End file.
